Carolyn's
by FBIEpidemic
Summary: The Marines taught David Rossi everything he thought he needed for life and love. One group of misfit bar coworkers might just prove him wrong. AU Where Dave owns a bar and there is no BAU team. (Aaron 'Hotch' Hotchner/Emily Prentiss)
1. Chapter 1

I've only written Batman stuff on this account so… this is new. Uh… I hope you like it. This took me a while.

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Chapter 1:

Emily Mary Prentiss holds the stale beer high as she makes her way through the crowd. Elbows that connect to people that she wasn't quite tall enough to the heads of, press into her as they push past. With every elbow comes the feeling as she's on a ship, the threat of beer sloshing over the side like waves on the deck.

That sensation doesn't leave as a wave of nausea washes over her. She walks past a group of college girls, she can tell because all of them hold drinks rich with alcohol that which amount to harder recovery times and fewer drinks. One of the girls, whose left breast reads ANNA, bounces to the rhythm of the music like a seizing animal. Emily can smell their perfumes mixing in the air and she can see the powder that Anna pats around her neck. It stands out on her too tanned skin as a delicate film from the passionate dancing that makes the heat radiating off of the already too warm bodies feel like a toasty summer night.

ANNA is exactly the kinda girl that Emily was supposed to be. Emily had impossibly high standards set for herself. By now she should have Ph.D. in psychology and she would be running the FBI's Behavioral Unit. At home, she'd have a loving husband who'd have kind eyes like Sam Worthington but a hard bad boy look like Colin Farrell. He works at home, a writer, with their three kids. The genders never mattered but she always hoped for two older boys and a girl, so that they could protect each other. It wasn't until she grew out of pink fill dresses and began cutting her own hair that she realized, none of that would ever happen.

"Packed."

The single syllable word pulls her from her daydream. She looks up at the speaker, surprised that the man before he spoke. His usual silent, reserved personality kept them far apart in a world where they are constantly with one another with only five feet of slick wood keeping them apart. She smiles up at him, a quick, harmless smirk," you can hardly breath in here."

Which was dramatical to the point. As Jennifer and Penelope wade through the sea of people they disappear, gone in the blink of an eye. Their bobbing blonde hair mixing in with all of the other bobbing heads. Which should have been a hard feat since Penelope's loud clothes always made her visible even when her hair wasn't.

He nods and slides a Gin and Tonic to the woman to his left, but his eyes drift to her for just a moment. His silent way of inviting her to keep talking, even if he verbally never responds. That's what makes them a good team, they feed off of one another with no verbal prompting needed.

In partial, it's because she had known him before the bar. He worked a security detail at the ambassador's house. The youth was still present in his round face, the stresses of being an adult just starting to sink its teeth into him. He had a wife, which why he ended up leaving the ambassadors. Less than three years later, he and his wife had a baby. Looking at the haggard man before her, she can only wonder what happened to the man that read by firelight and helped her cook. Where is that baby?

"A Manhattan, please." She already hates the man at her bar stool. His hair is parted dangerously to one side and his arms are defined with just enough muscle to make them noticeable. A classic guy at the bar who either ends up trying to fight you or someone else after one too many martinis'.

She catches Hotch's eyes, dark and questioning, waiting for her to nod her head in the right way and he'd come over to her side and handle the man. She shakes her head though, the woman just in front of him had been generously giving tips all night and she won't take that from him.

Derek and Penelope walk together to the bar with trays full of stale cups of beer. She can only hear the hum of the bar and doesn't catch whatever joke Derek tells Penelope.

"Coming right up," her voice wavers, God she needs to get a grip. Clenching her fist to stop her trembling hands she carefully hands the man his drink.

"Thanks, sweetheart." The wink that he slips at her has her heart beating so hard it feels as if it may crawl out of her chest and leap out on to the bar. It's this simple act that makes her realize what he makes her so uncomfortable. He was the bar fight that ended with three guys in the E.R. and Derek's broken nose.

She glances at Hotch, unsettling nerves and pleading eyes, but his back is turned. Half bent over the bar he keeps solid eye contact with the woman chatting away all the while preparing her drink.

"Let's have a shot," the man has one of those smiles that without knowing him you would find endearing. He's the exact kind of guy that your mom hates and that you don't learn to keep away from until it's far too late. Tonight, she knows that he has already decided that she is his plaything.

"Maxed out," she says, just loud enough to be heard over the music which pounds in her ears.

He smiles and she knows that smile too well. She should have gone with pregnant as her excuse. "Oh honey, if driving is the problem you have nothing to worry about. I'll drive you home."

She glances at Hotch again, praying that he will see her but he's being pulled away by JJ where he will be, no doubt, dragged to a group of college kids so that he can kick them out or calm them down. She wishes he was right beside her, drowning her in the familiar scent of Old Spice and the feeling of body heat.

She tries to sound nonchalant but her voice edges on scared as she realizes that everyone who can get her out of this is in the crowd of the bar. Too far to see her discomfort. "It's fine, what's one more?"

He claps," that's a girl! Vodka, I want this to be good."

At another time she can think about how stupid this man is for just wanting Vodka. It will burn and is usually reserved for hard drinkers and sad people. Either way, she bites back the liquid with the man, even smiling afterward to try and get herself in the good graces of the man.

The man sets his glass down roughly," how about… a Gimlet?" The grin he shoots her pisses her off before he even says anything else. "You know what that is, darling?"

Before she can come up with a polite way to tell him to fuck off, he's back.

"Out." Hotch is on her right side, she can see Derek seething from the corner with Penelope's hands on his chest keeping him rooted, and he's got both hands on the bar.

The man grins and points a finger at Hotch," Aaron, right?" The man's gaze falls to the hands that are inches from his own," that's right, you hit like a bitch."

Emily can see the muscles ripple under Hotch's simple white cotton t-shirt. "I'll only ask once." His voice is deep with anger and she's afraid of what these men are going to do.

The man rolls his eyes and stands up, knocking his stool back," whatever man. Keep the cheap bitch for yourself."

Emily waits for Hotch to punch the man but he doesn't. Instead his eyes are on the floor, fist clenched, and chest heaving.

The man throws both middle fingers in the air and shouts," fuck this place!"

As soon as the man leaves, Aaron looks down at her," okay?"

She nods, trembling from the fear and adrenaline that is now wearing out of her system.

He nods tightly and moves past her, brushing his body against hers.

She presses her palms to her jeans, wiping the sweat that had gathered there off, and nods again. She can do this.

Welcome to Carolyn's, where the bear is cold, and the staff is a family.


	2. Chapter 2

I hope you enjoy... this. This chapter is pretty much dedicated to backstories and stuff

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Chapter 2:

After he was released from the Marines. David Rossi moved back home. Still too injured to jump completely back into work he meddled around the kitchen. He learned to cook and it kept his mind off of everything that had happened. When his father fell ill, he hadn't expected to get the family bar out of it. His father had explained that David needed the bar, his siblings only loved the bar. He even told him about the naming tradition. Every generation takes a picture of the sign when they get the bar and then they name the bar.

Aaron came just as David understood what his bar would be.

Carolyn's went up in August of 1995. Since then staff had come and gone. Men and women all loved.

Standing at the doors of his closed bar David smiles fondly, his staff currently are his favorite. Even the stick of a kid he hired to wash table was a hoot. All together they made the atmosphere homey and just as his own father would have wanted.

"David!" Emily says, voice full of a surprised happiness. "What are you doing out here?" Ritualistically, it was Aaron's job to open the bar up.

Dave pulled the brunette in for a hug and she accepted happily. He left his arm around her shoulder as he looked over the outside of his bar," sick. Sounded like the flu but you never know with him."

The bar had been remodeled over the years as each boy got his shot at owning it. So far, they had managed to successfully keep it looking the same. The darker blue color seemed to draw in a sense of familiarity that most people loved about the bar. The flashy red sign read Carolyn, a constant reminder of his deceased wife's love.

Dave doesn't miss Emily's face falling," that's too bad." She rocks back on her heels," is Derek working the bar with me?" She looks up hopefully at him and he shakes his head.

"Actually, I was thinking of just giving you all the day off," Dave twirls the keys in his hands.

Emily scratches at her thumbnail, nervous for her next question. "Who's taking care of him? He's not up there all by himself is he?" She raises her gaze to the single window, high above them, but only inches away from the sign is a window. Black curtains are drawn tight, keeping the sun out.

"He's by himself." Dave smirks at her," but if you'd like, I'll give you the keys and you can head up there. Maybe use some soup to disguise the lovesick eyes you'll be giving him."

Emily socks Dave in the arm, earning only a chuckle from the man. She shakes her head and hides embarrassment behind anger. "I can't believe you'd say something like that!"

Dave scoffs," sure you can." He squares his shoulders," I've seen those puppy eyes before and I happened to hear that little showdown the other night."

Emily's eyes fall to the ground underneath her feet. "He would have done that for anyone," she mumbles to her shoes. Maybe if she could convince herself that then she could convince Dave too but not today.

Dave reaches over and pulls the smaller woman against him," no dear. To anyone else, he would have come across that bar and fought that man. I've seen him do it. For you, he stayed calm. He kept his cool so that you wouldn't be caught in their crossfire." Silence settles between them. HIs words ebb into the crooks and crannies of her mind. The only thing that draws her out is the soft kiss he presses to her hairline. "Take the night off, Em." He places the keys into her hands, warm from their extended time in his," go say hi for me."

She rubs the old key with her thumb, taking in the warmth and ridges. In the past she had opened, once or twice but opening this door had never felt like such a crime. The scratches of a well worn, old lock that has seen more seasons than most reflects her own image back to her. Her hands shake, not like a few nights ago but with an anticipation of the unknown. He might not even open up.

Her knuckles rapped against the door and pain blossoms across the skin.

A voice from behind the door, that sounds like it's pressed under a blanket, shouts," let yourself in, Dave!"

She rocks back on the heels of her feet, the old wood groans at the shift. "Umm…" she isn't quite loud of enough for him to hear so she clears her throat. "It's Emily!" She scratches furiously at the nail of her right thumb," Dave sent me up here. He-"

The off-white door is thrown open, sending the smell of disinfectant and mint toothpaste, and as she looks up at him she knows why. His hair sticks up in a way that suggests that he hasn't messed with it all day. The blue t-shirt he wears has a small drop of white just under his chin and she hides a smile with her teeth, tucking her lip into her mouth. Her eyes sink further and quickly find their way back up. He's clad in green boxers that reveal more of him than she's ever seen in her years of working with him. The most comical of all though lies in the socks that she only glanced at. Because what appeared to her as only splotches of color on his black socks is actually color-coordinated dinosaurs.

"I…" she watches the words get caught on his lips. His jaw moves but no words pass.

She tries to get the awkwardness over between them. She is stuck. Her eyes move along his body. She sees the sweat on his brow, a sign that whatever is coursing through his veins will be gone by tomorrow. The hand on the door hasn't moved, blocking her path into his apartment when his body is turned like he wants her to come in.

The carpet is clean because he is every bit of the neat freak that she thought he would be. "I was just supposed to make sure you were alive," her words are forced. She nods and steps away from his door," I'll see you tomorrow night."

In a perfect world, he would have called out. He would have reached out from his spot and held her wrist so that she would turn and come back. This isn't a perfect world.

********

Drying mugs with two swipes of their hands, Emily finds a short enough beat to ask," what's Hotch's story?"

Derek looks up in between wipes," what isn't?" He settles back into his groove. Get a mug, two/three wipes, place mug upside. Repeat. He is engraved in the process, lactic acid building up as his muscles work hard and his breathing doesn't quite compensate. He carries on. "Dave hired him… forever ago. He was twenty."

Every person at the bar had a story. Some were easy to obtain and others, like Hotch's, were just out of her grip.

Penelope was practically rescued from the Feds. She had hacked into some stuff, seen things she's not supposed to, and stirred up a lot of trouble. Dave heard about her and very quickly acquired a soft spot for her. Dave made a few calls and within that week Penelope was working as a waitress and has been since. Penelope often says that without Dave she'd probably be in jail. She blossomed, she shed her dark clothes for bright popping ones and just became another member of Carolyn's.

JJ couldn't have been more different. At 18, a scared teenager still raw from her sister's suicide, she was hired just to take the trash out. Of course, to JJ this made no sense but when she turned 21 she was welcomed in by Dave, arms open and a waitress position just waiting to be opened. JJ was… hesitant. What if Dave was just some old perv trying to get into her pants? She couldn't have been more wrong. When her mother fell ill, Dave was there. He paid her even on the nights she spent in the hospital with her mom. He was there like no one had been since her sister. JJ felt like she was part of a family for the first time in years.

Derek… Well, Derek didn't need Dave. Derek needed the bar. Unlike the others, Derek found Dave. However, Dave found the broken bits of Derek, just as he had the others. Buried under muscle and tattoos was the little boy who was sexually abused by one of the only people he trusted. Dave hired him and put him at the bar. Derek's good looks and charm had him thriving there in no time.

Emily has yet to figure out what made Dave like her. That's one of the reason's she is so interested in these stories. To figure out her place.

"He was married," Derek says softly, glancing in the direction of Hotch. Said man, stands on the other end of the bar talking to their youngest recruitment. A young genius, Spencer, who has taken to Hotch. Always following the older man like a puppy. "He doesn't talk about it but…" Derek looks up from the mug that he had been working on. She stops too, waiting to see what is so important that he is making eye contact. "He and his wife had a kid, a boy. She divorced him when the kid was like two. They both died in a car crash."

Emily sucks her lip into her mouth, catching it there with her teeth. It is a habit she formed as a child, it's better than scratching her nails. "How long were they married?" Her eyes cross over the bar, moving along the clean wood over to Hotch's eyes. Which are looking directly at Derek and Emily as if he knows.

Derek drops his attention back to the mugs as if not bothered with his co-workers' life. "They were high school sweethearts." He sighs, throwing his damp rag over his shoulder, done with the mugs. "He was in the car behind them. It was a tractor-trailer. His car, her's, and another were all piled up." Derek nods slowly," he was a thirty-something year old, stuck in a coma for three weeks, and when he woke up everything he knew was gone. No wife. No kid. Just this bar and Dave."

Derek runs a hand over his bald head and shrugs as if to say 'what can you do?' and what can you do?

With a click of his tongue, Derek excuses himself to another part of the bar where Penelope and JJ lean against their respective tables and giggle at whatever hearty subject they discuss.

Emily thumbnail between her teeth, scratching lightly at the hardened keratin.

"E-Emily?"

She jumps at the unexpected intrusion. Spencer stands an arm's length away from her, skinny arms wrapped tightly around his small frame. "Um… Hotch wanted you to meet him upstairs." His long brown hair falls in the way of his baby face, he can't be any older than thirty but he looks forever 12 and adorable. "He-He said to just let yourself in." Spencer doesn't wait around any longer and simply walks away from her without another word.

Emily looks down to the ground, ashamed. She knows that he heard her and Derek's early decision. Stalling, the only way she knows how she walks over to the OPEN/CLOSED sign and flips it so that the red OPEN faces her.

She says a silent prayer, praying more the bar than to a God.

As she walks to the stairs she kisses her fingertips and hits the lowered ceiling.

Goodnight Carolyn's.


	3. Chapter 3

Dave was adamant about opening up tonight. Something just told him that tonight was a bad idea and still, it had been him to open the doors and it was him that woke Aaron. That should have done it. He never has to get Aaron. This morning though, when he opened the door with his foot while his hands occupied coffees, he found the man he often looks to as a son, slumped over himself on the floor.

He had almost dropped the coffees on the spot if it had not been for Emily emerging from the bathroom with a washcloth. She smiled shallowly, it never really meeting her eyes. "Rough night, so I-I just stayed over…" her eyes sink to the floor with the shyness of a teenager trying to talk their way out of telling their parent about a kiss.

Rossi doesn't mind her presence. Pulling up on his pants around his thigh, he squats down in front of Aaron. He takes in the damage, which isn't much and tilts his head to the side. "Cos'è, figliolo," he asks softly, rubbing at the chin that rests in his hand.

Hotch pulls his chin away and cringes at the pain that evokes from his back. "Nothing," he grits out, hand clenching at the strands of his carpet. "I'm fine."

Rossi glances up at Emily, attempting to evoke an answer from her but she turns her head, not allowing him to see that she hasn't either. Rossi stands, slowly, and at the pair. "Whatever happened, get yourselves cleaned up, alright? I've gotta open the bar," Rossi turns to the door and as he's shutting it he opens it back up. He sticks his head in," and before you come down either drink a pot of coffee or take a couple of shots… can't have my best bartenders looking all frumpy."

When the door shut behind Dave, Emily stayed glued in her spot. Everything that had transpired over the last 24 was… insane.

 _She jumps at the unexpected intrusion. Spencer stands an arm's length away from her, skinny arms wrapped tightly around his small frame. "Um… Hotch wanted you to meet him upstairs." His long brown hair falls in the way of his baby face, he can't be any older than thirty but he looks forever 12 and adorable. "He-He said to just let yourself in." Spencer doesn't wait around any longer and simply walks away from her without another word._

 _Emily looks down to the ground, ashamed. She knows that he heard her and Derek's early decision. Stalling, the only way she knows how she walks over to the OPEN/CLOSED sign and flips it so that the red OPEN faces her._

 _She says a silent prayer, praying more the bar than to a God._

 _As she walks to the stairs she kisses her fingertips and hits the lowered ceiling._

 _She meets him on the steps. His lean frame tilted against the wall, long arms tucked underneath themselves. "Derek told you."_

 _She looks to the stairs, unable to meet hard brown eyes. "He did." The steps that lead to the apartment that Hotch calls his own, are old. They are worn down from frequent use. Grey paint that once covered them now chips beneath their very feet._

" _Why didn't you just ask me?"_

 _She smirks, eyes coming up to meet his. Her smile fades. There is a profound sadness hidden there. Not so much hidden but glancer over. The sort of thing that you see and just pretend that it isn't there. "Ask you?" she repeats with just enough edge that she has to take a step back. "I couldn't have asked you. Do you know why?"_

 _She waits patiently for him to shrug. He does. "That's why. That right there. You don't talk enough. So when I realized that I know just about everything under the sun about Derek, a man that I have zero feelings for and spend zero time with, I… I just wanted an answer." Her eyes sink down again, her own words bouncing back at her. "I wanted to know if it was just me that you were cut off around. I… I guess I know why, now."_

 _She takes another step back, moving towards the door, towards escape._

" _Wait." His hands fall to his sides but he doesn't reach out to her. "I… I have to be… with you." A blush creeps up his cheeks as he realizes that his words are falling short of their mark, practically missing the target entirely. "I have to be cut off with you… is what I meant."_

 _She smiles," why? Why do you think you have to be cut off with me?"_

 _He blushes harder, something she didn't even think he was capable of. Then again, she also didn't think he spoke sentence longer than four words and here he is blowing her out of the water with 5 and 6. "I… I have feelings for you," he whispers._

 _She hears him and he knows that she did but she can't help her wide smile. "What was that?"_

 _He smiles shyly, dimples poking out," I have feelings for you, Emily."_

 _From there, things got heated. Their hands knocked over one lamp, pulled down a set of curtains, and even managed to knock off of his nightstand. They didn't get anywhere though._

 _Her lips were on his, sucking his bottom lip between her teeth as his hands found there way down her pants. She had half a hand down him when he jerked away, breath coming out in short burst and pupils dilated so big his eyes looked black. "I-I can't."_

 _She looks at him, his shirt is pulled up on his left side and his pants are unzipped showing off his hips and their descent down. "Why?" She's every bit as breathless as he is._

 _He fumbles backward, hitting his back on his dresser sending hard items to the floor with a crash. "I-I haven't… not since… not since_ her _."_

 _Her as in the ex-wife, the one that left him. She can understand though and she nods," that's okay. Don't worry about it." She pulls her shirt down, untangling it from her bra," got any coffee, it'll help with…" his problem._

 _He isn't with her anymore. Hotch is already gone, his eyes full of that overlooked sadness. He simply nods to her question. She leaves him to it._

 _Lucky for them both, there is a much more effective way to get rid of both their problems. As she walks back into his room, intent on asking him about mugs, she finds him crying._

" _I can't do this," he looks up at her, eyes filled to the brim with upcoming tears. "I can't, not to you." He holds his head in his lap… Emily stands in the doorway, head tilted trying to come up with what she'll say next._

" _I understand." It's simple and it's true. It's just what he needs to hear. She knows he's not in a talking mood, so she'll talk. She seats down on his bed, their thighs rubbing as she seats so close to him. "I was with this guy, Ian, for years. He was toxic." She looks down at her hands, trying to calm herself. "I knew it, I… I was just in denial. So when he… When he hit me the first time I stayed. Doesn't make sense, I know that but he said he was sorry, that he'd never do it again." There's a pause, neither say anything but she doesn't expect him to anyways. "I believed him and he did it again… and again… and again until…" She can't find it in herself to go on, he reaches across the small space between them and takes her hand. Giving her silent strength. "He didn't stop until he wrapped his hands around my throat and even then it wasn't enough." Her fingers jerk in his palm, sending terrified melodies through their bodies. "I stayed because I was afraid. I was afraid because all I had was him."_

 _She looks up at him, squeezing the same hand that he had taken for her because she needed comfort and smiles. "So if you're not ready… then I understand."_

 _From their things dissolved. Unresolved trauma and hard liquor never mix well._

"There are zero clean rags." In comparison to how the night had been going, things aren't that bad right now. Morgan leans against the bar, cupping his face in his hand. "Entertain me."

That's all Hotch hears and Emily has to shove her fingers into her mouth to hide a smile. "I wish I could, but I have customers." She demonstrates this point as she slides a glass of amber liquid to the man directly in front of her.

Morgan pushes himself off with a hefty sigh," boring, Em. You're so boring."

Emily smiles because although she may be boring, at least she's the proper exciting for Aaron. She glances over the at dark man haired, he's already looking at her. Blush flushes her cheeks, and she wonders how he has this effect on her and damn him for it.

As she turns back a cologne all too familiar washes over her. Her stomach drops.

"My dear," the man croons," my sweet Emily, did you truly think that Quantico could hide you from me?"

All around them, Carolyn's blooms with life. The music thumping in a way that makes your chest feel vibrate along with it. The crowd slithered in, brother and sisters buying drinks and laughing. Yet, in the one spot where someone needs to be, no one is there.

Welcome to Carolyn's.


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm so sorry I haven't been active, finals are showing their ugly heads and I have a C in Anatomy so... it's whatever I still have extra credit right?**

 **Anyways, I hope you enjoy the chapter... Leave me reviews so that I can forget how much of a disappointment I am**

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"Ooof!"

In the sea of rocking bodies, two people can sink away, unseen. No one will look for them because only they know they are there. Other's will look over them, too caught up in themselves to be distracted by two people.

"Dammit Morgan," wet, hot, sticky booze runs down Penelope's shirt front. A rule, one that she had made up but was still very wise, of her's is that she never wears new shirts to work and the reason is for things exactly like this.

"P, I'm sorry. Let me buy you a drink after closing." His eyes beg for forgiveness and his whole body pleads that she agrees to a drink. "I am really sorry."

But sorry doesn't fix everything. This time it works, Penelope nods her head, blonde curls bouncing. "Okay," but only a few feet away from them, that same tactic doesn't work.

"Don't touch me."

Aaron Hotchner is exhausted and if he's completely honest, kinda pissed. To be fair though, one is mostly the result of the other. Because he has no real explanation as to why he feels so pissed that Morgan might seductive lean against the bar and stare at Emily and that's why he's pissed. Who does Morgan think he is.

"Bathroom," he mumbles to JJ as she bumps past him on her way to the next table. She simply nods and continues on her path.

In the bathroom, he stands in front of the mirror. Already the small room smells of vomit and urine and the mirror is coated with a substance that Hotch is sure he'd rather not be aware of.

There, only two feet from the mirror, he stares at himself. His eyes, held down by grey bags from too many sleepless nights, reflect no light and his shoulders are sunken. He doesn't suspect that he's any use on a night like this and prays that Morgan has his head in a game. Perhaps, his earlier thoughts are wrong because how could Emily have feelings for him? Especially, when he's in the kinda state that he is in. Maybe she just has bad-

"HOtch!"

His name being yelled through the bar is a common occurrence so much so that he's learned to understand the differences in the way different people shout it. Today, it appears that he is needed, quite desperately.

"Hey!" The door isn't even half open and he can see the problem.

Emily's standing against the back of the bar tears streaming down her face and red, angry marks from what he can only assume is from someone hitting her. Which he will not stand for.

The man that Morgan is momentarily containing, is wild. His grey hair sticks up oddly and his arms are marked with tattoos. Hotch meets Morgan right in front of the man, Hotch taking the place of Morgan. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave, sir."

"Hotch?"

He's distracted for a moment, a split second his attention goes to the brunette whose tears have yet to cease falling. "Hotch-"

That's all the other man needs. In that second, Ian Doyle has Hotch pinned to the floor. His long arms pounding away at Hotch's exposed torso. It takes Morgan a moment to get to his boss. The people in the crowd all pushing against him.

Hotch couldn't think. He could take the assaulting punches and they came down like a summer storm. It was Emily that caught him off. Each punch had her closer and closer. There was a kick but he didn't move away and then the weight on his chest is gone and all he can think is the smell of her perfume. It makes his face itch and his skin crawl. She's so close now that he isn't sure if he's even conscious.

Her hand brushes his cheek and it comes back red. Why is he bleeding but even that question is brushed aside as he feels his body being lifted up. A 'sorry' comes only after he feels himself grunt. Someone is holding him up, he isn't sure how because he can't feel his legs and he's not very sure if he's breathing.

Emily keeps his eyes, they remain trained on her even as roaring pain envelops him.

"Aaron," she says his name breathlessly and his head only cocks to the side, wordlessly questioning her. "I'm so sorry."

The man, the one that had hurt Emily and then him, is being hassled out and he thinks he can hear someone shouting on the phone about 'some insane dude just beat up a bartender! I think I even saw a knife! You need to get someone over here!'

"Hey, hey." Someone's slapping his cheek and he opens his eyes, he can't recall shutting them. "Emily," it's Morgan, he'll get the younger man back for slapping him later. "Stay here with him. I'm going to get that douche bag out of the bar."

He can feel his head being lifted and he finds himself staring up at Emily. Her soft fingers comb through his hair and she whispers," I'm so sorry, Aaron." She presses a soft kiss to his forehead and her hair falls down to tickle his cheeks. "I shouldn't have come here." She continues to brush his hair with her fingers and he wonders if he has a concussion. He's had plenty but none have ever felt like this. "I've only hurt people and now Ian found me and…"

He tries to seat up, to hug him to her and comfort her, but he quickly comes to understand why Morgan had laid him down. The entire building spins and his stomach threatens to betray him. "Emily," his voice does betray him but he makes up for it by reaching up and holding her face. "This is not your fault. Just… Just… It isn't. Okay? You couldn't help any of this."

She down at him, this weird feeling settling itself in her stomach.

He leans forward and captures her lips with his own.

"You taste like blood," she whispers wiping some of the crimsons off of his lips.

He grins and she matches his glee filled look.

This time she kisses him. His lungs burn but no more than his ribs so he takes it. He kisses her back, pressing up so that their kiss is a fight for dominance. "I think...I think I love you," she breathes when they finally break apart.

His pants match her own and he smiles. "I love you too."

Welcome to Carolyn's


End file.
